


Strands

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Romance, hairdresser au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Among Sherlock Holmes talents is the ability to know exactly what a client sitting in his chair needs and to execute it perfectly. He may even be able to deduce something more obscure, like why a style change is needed in someone's life. What he does not deal with as naturally is his own personal life. But one of his most loyal and long time clients, Molly Hooper, is about to help him improve in that particular area.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fangirlhani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlhani/gifts).



> This is a thank you to Fangirlhani for recently creating some lovely promo graphics for my fics this year. Her volunteering to do such lovely work has been just awesome! I had been wanting to do a hairdressing au for a little while now, (being licensed in the field myself) so I'm glad she gave me the push by requesting that this be the prompt I fill for her. Hope all of you enjoy! ;))

For those who put a high premium on their personal hair style, _Strands_ on the Strand could be the only possible destination in all of London. It was here that those who were able to could come not only to solve issues with their coiffure, but often with nearly almost anything else that might be troubling them. The owner, Martha Hudson, knew full well that despite the excellent services offered by professionals such as Mary Morstan and managed nearly to the perfection of a machine by John Watson, the real draw of _Strands_ rested on the shoulders of the consulting stylist himself: Sherlock Holmes.

Renown throughout the city as highly in demand, the salon was often a bustling place, clients in a constant and steady stream, despite the acerbic commentary often coming from the last chair. The bustle had yet to begin on this particular morning though, as the salon was still an hour or so from opening. However, the last chair was in use by the consulting stylist and a soon-to-be bride who happened to be his second favorite client, as well as a skilled coworker.   
  
He dipped the brush back in the bowl and applied the color to another section of Mary’s regrowth, determined that everything should be perfect for her and John’s big day in less than a week. Including, of course, her hair.

“Gosh, I’ve been so worked up about the planning lately that I’ve actually been making myself sick!” Mary commented with a heavy sigh.

“Mm,” Sherlock hummed in thought as he gently felt another section of her hair between his fingers. Something crossed his mind for a split second, but he didn’t quite have a chance to voice it aloud.

John walked over to where Sherlock and Mary were working. “Sherlock, Molly Hooper called again. She’s still wondering if you’ve had a cancellation that she could take this week.”

“Nothing,” Sherlock shot back instantly. “I’m booked solid, no open appointments.”

John frowned at him. “You’re not booked solid though, I’ve just checked the schedule and-”

“She doesn’t need to come in, John,” Sherlock bit back, his jaw setting in a hard line as he all but glared at his work.

He tried to ignore the pointed glance the John and Mary shared.

“Sherlock, you know that Molly’s one our best clients,” John went on. “She was one of your first clients, actually, there’s no reason to be such a git to her now.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “She was here four weeks ago. She’s far from needing a trim and the glaze I did shouldn’t need to be redone for at least another couple of weeks. She’s clearly just thinking about the wedding and wanting to try something new and exciting, probably something which she found online on some inane website, all of which is completely unnecessary. And besides, how is anyone supposed to notice her actual hair when she always insists on adding some sort of oversized ornament to it?!”

John let out a short laugh. “Ever heard the expression, ‘the customer is always right?’” As manager, that was naturally how his mind worked. “If Molly wants to go for something different, it’s her right to do so.”

“Well, she can go and do it with someone else, then!” Sherlock snapped.

Mary’s eyebrows shot up as she glanced between her friend and her fiance. “Is this still about hair, Sherlock?”

Sherlock cleared his throat and schooled his features into a cool mask.

Mary’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied her friend. Perhaps best not to push too much at the moment. “Well anyway, I agree with you,” she added. “I think Molly is naturally gorgeous. She hardly needs to do anything to make people see that! You should really tell her that.”

Sherlock grimaced. “Why would I tell her that?”

“Because that’s what you think.”

“I said no such thing!”

Mary shrugged. “I can read between the lines...and I can also tell when you’re fibbing.”

“The future Mrs. Watson, ladies and gentlemen,” John stated as he leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek before walking back over to the desk.

“Sherlock, how long have you known Molly, really?” Mary asked after John had walked away.

“Long before you were hired. About six years ago was the first time she came in, I believe.”

Mary whistled. “That’s a loyal client!”

“Convenient location for her,” Sherlock explained matter-of-factly. “Bart’s Hospital is only five minutes from here.”

“For a lot of people I don’t think location would be enough to put up with all that goes along with being your client.”

“Meaning?” he questioned with narrowed eyes.

“Oh come on, Sherlock!” Mary laughed. “You’ve nearly made her cry more than once! She’s awfully forgiving, if you ask me.”

Now _that_ , Sherlock couldn’t really argue with. While he was the best hairstylist in London and hadn’t built that reputation based on being nice, he knew that he’d been particularly unfeeling to that sweet woman on a number of occasions. And Mary was right. She was incredibly forgiving. Even though he’d made a bit of a pact to be far more gentle with her after a particularly disastrous Christmas, he often wondered what made her continue putting up with him so faithfully.

“Though I suppose everyone has to have a bit of thick skin to deal with sitting in this chair,” Mary added with a wink. “You can’t have Sherlock Holmes do your hair unless you’re willing to hear all about why you need it done because of what’s going on with the rest of your life.”

“I solve problems that go beyond hair,” Sherlock said, putting his own spin on things. “Nobody should complain seeing as I may as well be offering them a free additional service. Everyone says that seeing your hairdresser is like therapy...I just happen to be far better at it than anyone else. And I’d say my tips speak for themself!”

“And you’re humble,” Mary said with a little wag of her head. “Talk to her, Sherlock. Because obviously, there’s more-”

“There, all done,” Sherlock announced, interrupting Mary’s speech, setting the brush back in the bowl, and snapping his gloves off. He checked his watch to plan when she should be washed.

He almost strolled away, but then stopped mid step to swivel back around.

“Oh and incidentally, Mary, based on your recently being sick, supposedly from stress, and the obvious changes to the texture of your hair...I’d highly recommend doing a pregnancy test.”

A mug of tea clattered to the floor over by the reception desk.


	2. Chapter 2

“Just the bride and groom please,” the photographer specified, prompting Sherlock to step aside and stop adjusting Mary’s hair where the veil was attached.

Molly smiled from where she stood on the sidelines as she observed the very slight lift in his own lips. He would definitely claim to find all of this tradition to be tedious and silly, but she also knew that he loved John and his new wife Mary. Their happiness was probably more important to him than his own. It was one of those things that wasn’t obvious to everyone, but she found incredibly endearing.

“Busy week eh?” Molly asked cheerfully as she approached and walked along with him toward the reception hall.

“Very, yes,” he agreed, offering a brief smile.

“I’m sure you’ve had your hands full with the um, wedding and everything. I didn’t mean to be calling so much. It was fine, I just went to a friend,” she said with a nervous giggle.

Sherlock’s gaze shot to her more directly.

“My friend Tom is a barber, but he’s pretty good with any hair,” she explained, unconsciously touching the simple updo to be sure the bow was still in place. “Helped me decide on a style for today.”

“Hm,” he hummed in response, eyes flitting over her head judgmentally. “I’m sure he did.”

“So,” Molly added, clearing her throat and hoping her blush would die down quickly, “I’m sure you’ve got quite a speech planned.”

“Mm, yes, that’ll be coming up far too soon.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to bounce any ideas off someone or practice some of your-”

“Thank you, Molly, won’t be necessary,” he answered quickly, giving her arm a brief touch. “Got to be off, I think the bridal party are taking a few more pictures inside before we sit.”

“O-ok right, no problem,” Molly acknowledged with a smile, though he was already hurrying ahead to get inside.

Molly hesitated for a moment, trying to do her best to seem as if she was not staring after him when she was able to catch some of the conversation of the two bridesmaids behind her.

“Yours looks brilliant as well,” one of them drawled. “God, that man’s hands are magic!”

“You can say that again,” the other laughed. “I was so disappointed when he finished my hair. Could have sat there happily for hours!”

“And he’s single,” the first one replied.

“Well that’s good for you then, isn’t it? You know what they say, Janine- maid of honor and the best man,” she teased.

“Certainly worth a try,” Janine agreed, her smile audible. “He seems like a tough one, but who knows?”

Molly walked further to one side, allowing the chatting women to pass her and continue on. She sighed to herself as she watched them and their perfectly styled shining tresses saunter happily into the reception hall. She fully prepared herself to see Sherlock Holmes walking out later that night with Janine, and she tried to remind herself that she certainly couldn’t blame him.

As she took her seat not far from the head table, Molly thought how it seemed a lifetime ago, that Inspector Greg Lestrade had stood in her morgue and related the strangest story to her. He told her how he’d been called to a high end salon because of a break in, but was surprised upon arriving to find that one of the stylists, the one and only Sherlock Holmes, had already figured out who the culprit was. And it turned out he was right!

At the time Molly had been impressed, but it wasn’t till Greg confessed that he had continued going regularly to get his hair cut there because Sherlock had proven to be invaluable when it came to confounding crimes. In fact, the stylist enjoyed hearing about the crimes Lestrade was solving so very much, that he refused to charge him. Lestrade insisted on leaving a tip, but it seemed that for Sherlock Holmes it was hardly the money that mattered.

Lestrade’s continued tales prompted Molly to finally make her own appointment. And heaven help, it only took one simple haircut...one haircut to know that she never wanted to go elsewhere.

Did he tend to be tactless, and even rude, at times? Certainly. But Molly was nothing short of thrilled by his wit and brilliance. He was a wonderfully unique man in many ways, and that made up for the occasions when she considered giving him a firm smack upside the head. As did the fact that she could see very clearly that he was not the wholly the arrogant git he played so well. He was far more.

And she had to admit that she’d fallen completely in love with him.

* * *

 

“Hey, nicely done,” Greg told Sherlock with a firm handshake.

“The evening is over now and I believe that’s the real success,” Sherlock replied. “The bride and groom are off and all went remarkably smoothly. That is, aside from the fact that the photographer had to be arrested for attempted robbery in the coat room.”

“Right, yeah,” Greg agreed, coloring a bit at the mention of the crime which he had to be told to deal with. “Good catch on that one. Glad I was there to call for backup and having him carted away. Oh and hey, you got through that speech pretty well too, even without Molly helping!”

Sherlock frowned. “Molly?”

“Well yeah, she figured you’d need a bit of help since speeches and weddings and things ‘aren’t your area’. Really wanted to give you a hand, but I guess your schedule was pretty tight this past week.” He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder. “Nice job pulling it off on your own.”

Greg said something after that about grabbing a late drink with the maid of honor and he bid Sherlock goodnight. But he wasn’t paying too much attention to the inspector by then. At that point Sherlock was trying to process this unexpected information. He’d known that Molly had been trying to get a hold of him repeatedly leading up to the wedding, but he’d assumed it had been about her and her needs. He hadn’t realized...it had all been about him. Somehow, she’d known that this whole thing was going to be difficult for him and had tried to reach out to help.

Sherlock released a deep exhale, shutting his eyes and sliding fingers through his hair. He felt like a colossal idiot and an unfeeling git. He’d unwittingly shoved Molly and her good intentions aside once again. And all for what? All to ensure that these carefully constructed walls around him stayed intact and immovable. He couldn’t help be afraid for their stability when it came to her. Molly Hooper had a way of digging in deep; under the foundations to where there were weak spots, which he would then need to painstakingly reinforce once again. And sometimes it made him wonder…

Should he simply let go and let it all crumble to the ground?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am fully aware that I really need to amp up the Sherlock and Molly interactions in the next one. No worries, I will try not to disappoint. ;))


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder for this chapter that this is definitely a full blown AU. So a lot of things I describe near the end will be pretty far off with timing and events from what happened in the show. Don't let it confuse you, it's just my version of stuff in this little universe. :))

“No, no, no!” Sherlock huffed. “Obviously you can’t fool me into believing that you didn’t trim your own hair between appointments. You know who I am, it doesn’t  _ work _ !”

“I- I’m sorry,” the woman in his chair attempted. “It’s just that the fringe was getting a bit long and I just thought-”

“You thought you could delay your appointment a couple more weeks and avoid the expense because...mm, you’re doing some remodeling. But not through a contractor, no! The putty and paint around your nail beds would suggest you’re doing it yourself, which confirms that you’re looking to save where you can.” Sherlock sighed heavily. “Mrs. McCauley, wouldn’t you be better off saving a few pounds, not by trimming your own hair, but by making your coffee at home?” he suggested, gesturing to her cup from the fancy cafe nearby.

“Oh don’t be so grumpy!” Mary interjected as she walked past his station with the color she’d just mixed. She glanced at the client in his chair and smiled. “He’s just in a mood because he’s got an extra special client coming in later today.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. “There is nothing extra special about-”

“Ah ah! Fibbing, Sherlock,” Mary warned, and winked at him before walking back to her own client.

“I won’t trim my own hair again,” poor Mrs. McCauley volunteered sheepishly.

“I should hope not,” Sherlock muttered under his breath as he begrudgingly began combing and sectioning her hair.

* * *

 

Sherlock tried hard to ignore the nervous flips his stomach was doing as he walked over to the waiting area toward Molly. He hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, not since the Watson’s wedding. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since then, so was awfully relieved when she finally called and made an appointment. Of course he looked forward to any time she came to see him, but lately his general resolve had been wearing thin, and he was considering more than the occasional trim and style when it came to Molly Hooper.

“Afternoon, Molly,” he greeted with a small but genuine smile. “You can follow me.”

She responded with her unfailingly sunny smile and shimmering eyes, setting the magazine aside and getting up to join him at his station.

Molly settled into the chair and Sherlock swept the cape around her shoulders, fastening it around her slender neck. And then his hands were in her hair. That hair; long and thick and silky. He noted that the touch of his hand to her hair always had triggered a calming effect.

He’d noticed her the second she’d walked into Strands that very first day, of course he had. She was striking in a way that many other clients who came and went weren’t. Her beauty was genuine but unassuming, and there was that light in her eyes that pierced through to his soul in ways that actually made him a bit uneasy. She saw him; saw right through him. Which made him wonder sometimes why she hadn’t become irreparably disappointed in him by now.

“Just a trim today, I understand,” he stated, fingers combing through the chestnut tresses and feeling the condition of the ends.

“Mm, yeah I’m not looking for anything fancy,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m just squeezing this in on my lunch break.”

This was new. Usually she seemed eager to try any and every sort of service that he offered. Today there was something noticeably different in her demeanor. She was almost...indifferent.

Fear gripped Sherlock’s insides.

He had to admit that he’d grown awfully accustomed to a certain dynamic between himself and Molly Hooper. He was used to it and he knew exactly how to handle it. It was simple- she was clearly interested in more, and he did his best to ensure that  _ more _ never happened. It was best that way. He was sure- or used to be at least- that he should never entertain the idea of anything more.

“The usual,” Molly said, breaking into his thought process. “About two cm off.”

“Yes of course” Sherlock agreed, clearing his throat and attempting a casual smile.

He proceeded with the cut, trying not to dwell too much on what he suddenly felt unsure about saying, trimming both the length and the understated ninety degree layers. It was a relief when she began chatting about a research paper she had the opportunity to be a part of. He listened, enjoying the way her eyes lit up at the topic of her profession.

Conversation halted for the most part as Sherlock dried her hair, smooth and shiny. When finished, he did his usual dry cutting to thin and shape some of the heavier spots. Finally satisfied with the cut, he smiled at her through the mirror, the word leaving his mouth before he could reconsider.

“Beautiful.”

She reached up, feeling her freshly trimmed locks while giving him a quick smile in return. “Your work is always beautiful.”

_ Oh _ . Well, he hadn’t exactly meant his cutting skills.

“And if you’d like, I could do some-“ Sherlock attempted.

“Oh actually, it’s perfect just like this,” Molly replied, her body language prompting him to remove the cape so she could get up. “I’ve got to run back to the hospital now. Only fifteen minutes left on lunch! Thanks so much, and I’ll see you later.”

“Y-yes, of course,” he agreed quickly as she handed him a tip and made her way over to the reception desk to pay.

He stood there hesitantly, wondering if he should say something else but also realizing he had no time left to do so. The moment was over. His chance was over. In fact, he wondered as she walked out of the salon whether there were any chances with Molly Hooper left at all.

“That’s a very distinctive look you’ve got on your face at the moment,” John commented, strolling over to his friend.

Sherlock frowned in question.

“Well, I mean, I know what you look like most of the time when you’re saying everything that pops into your brain when you should be keeping your mouth shut,” John explained. “So it’s awfully noticeable...this look you have when you  _ don’t  _ say what’s on your mind.”

The brilliant man clenched his jaw but couldn’t find it in his power to argue. “I can’t say it,” he replied in a defeated tone.

“Sherlock, yes you can,” John counted with a laugh.

“No, John, perhaps I truly can’t!” Sherlock said in frustration. “I never dared to cross that line with her because that has never been my area. This…” He gestured to his station and all the tools of his trade. “This is my area; what I truly understand. But people and emotions...those are the greatest mysteries to me.”

John listened, silent and thoughtful.

“And now,” Sherlock continued, “Now that I’ve finally begun to wonder what it would be like to simply give it a go...perhaps I’m too late.”

John shook his head slowly. “It’s never too late, ok? You’re here and so is she...so of course it isn’t too late. She’s cared about you for years! That doesn’t go away overnight. Talk to her! Do something to show her how you feel. It’s about bloody time!”

Yes, it was about bloody time, Sherlock had to admit. She’d been such a faithful friend for years now. Standing in the wings of his life, always keeping a watchful eye on him and his heart, and always ready to swoop in just when he needed her most.

He’d never forget the day a couple of years back when she glanced up at him in the station mirror and saw directly into his soul.  _ “Are you ok?”  _ she’d asked. It caught him off guard for a moment as he realized that she was the first and only one to take notice that something was off. Even in hindsight it was difficult to fathom how easily she’d read him.

So he shared with her what he hadn’t shared with anyone else yet. His sister Eurus, whose brilliance was only matched by her emotional instability, had fallen into a very sticky situation at Sherrinford, the specialized university she attended. She and her math professor, James Moriarty, had fallen into an inappropriate relationship. Eurus was just wild and reckless enough to get involved in that type of thing, believing herself to be beyond rules and limits.

It took quite a number of visits to her school for Sherlock to finally reach her, and then there was the matter of the professor. He refused to let Professor Moriarty get away with such a thing, especially after he discovered that this incident only scratched the surface of the man’s snake-like and unprofessional behavior. All thanks to Sherlock, James Moriarty was fired and left the country, never to be heard from again. And all the while, Molly supported him. She went with him to the school at times, regularly sent him texts to see how things were going, and also kept the sensitive family drama completely quiet, not sharing it with another soul. That was when it truly hit him that she was someone he could always trust, no matter what.

Sherlock eyes narrowed as his mind shifted from his memories and he considered that John was probably right. But he also wondering how to go about it now. “I feel like I can’t do just anything…” he said thoughtfully.

Just then, his eyes happened to fall on the boxes near the reception desk which were filled with a shipment of new inventory. As he thought back to some of the things that had been ordered last, a brilliant thought occurred to him.

“I believe, John, that I will be performing an experiment soon,” he said, a smile forming on his lips. “And I will most definitely need an assistant!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one or two more chapters for this AU. I have romantic goodness planned for the next one! ;D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it took me to get this last chapter out. My inspiration and motivation have been at an all time low lately. Hope you enjoy this last one! ;)

EVENING MOLLY -SH

OH HI...EVERYTHING OK? -MH

PERFECTLY FINE. HOW’S THE CUT? -SH

THAT’S FINE TOO. STILL JUST AS GOOD AS WHEN YOU CUT IT THIS AFTERNOON. :) -MH

GOOD. AND ALSO...ARE YOU AVAILABLE TO ASSIST ME WITH SOMETHING TOMORROW EVENING AFTER THE SHOP CLOSES? -SH

WHY? WHAT DID YOU NEED? -MH

YOUR HAIR ACTUALLY. I HAVE A NEW CONDITIONING TREATMENT THAT I’D LIKE TO TRY OUT (NO CHARGE OR COURSE) BEFORE USING ON CLIENTS. -SH

THOUGHT I WAS A CLIENT. -MH

I’D LIKE TO THINK YOU’RE ALSO A FRIEND...WHAT DO YOU SAY? -SH

SURE, WHY NOT? I’LL BE BY AFTER 8. -MH

* * *

 

Sherlock very carefully set the stage once closing time came around that next day. Not to say that he didn’t truly have this new product and want to try it out. He absolutely did. But naturally he was taking the opportunity to use this scenario for a grander purpose. So things needed to be perfect. 

After Martha Hudson left, giving him a little wink on her way out, Sherlock shut the front lights off and locked up. He set out everything needed on his station and then waited impatiently. Finally, he heard a little knock on the front door and saw her standing there peering inside on the now darkened street.

Sherlock hurried over to unlock the door and let her in, smiling warmly as she walked in. He was excited to execute his plan, but…

“You haven’t eaten,” he stated almost instantly as he got a full look at her. She’d clearly come straight from work and it had been an incredibly busy day.

“Oh, well, yeah I s’pose not. It’s fine though because-“

“Don’t be silly,” Sherlock interrupted, stopping her hands before she could take off her coat. “Fancy some chips?”

Molly’s brow shot up. “Chips? Um...yeah actually that sounds nice.”

He grinned and snatched his coat from the hook on the wall, swooping it around his shoulders and grabbing the keys in his pocket to lock up.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock and Molly sat on a bench near the salon, munching on some chips and occasionally chatting.

“So...how’s your sister?” Molly asked.

“Eurus is- well, she’ll always be Eurus,” Sherlock replied with a short laugh. “But she’s certainly better the past year or so. She’s a bit more focused, or at least more positively focused. And I’d like to think some of her bitterness towards the family has decreased. I think she has begun to see the wisdom of stepping in during the mess with her professor. She hasn’t said as much but…”

“You can just tell,” Molly stated softly.

Sherlock nodded, eyes settling on her face as he appreciated her accurate deduction.  

“She may be visiting on school holiday soon actually,” he told her as he finished another chip.

“Really? Oh, I’d love to meet her,” Molly replied happily.

He smiled politely but inside was wondering if it wouldn’t be a truly dreadful idea. He loved his sister, but she was definitely a bit of a ticking time bomb. You never could tell what she was going to say or do. There were probably no end to the ways that she’d embarrass him in front of Molly.

“I’d kind of like to get to talk to her,” she went on with a thoughtful smile. “Y’know, hear all about the Holmes childhood. I feel like there’s probably lots of stories to be told!”

“I’d...I’d like for you to hear all the stories, Molly,” he said pointedly, giving her what he hoped was a significant look.

He thought he noticed her cheeks color a bit as she look back at her basket of chips, focusing on selecting another.

“So you must have been lonely,” Molly said, which made Sherlock’s brow shoot up. “I mean, when the Watsons were away.”

“Ah yes. Well there was no getting around it. Sex holidays are a requirement for the newly married, it seems,” he said, which elicited a snort of laughter from her. “Though I’ve been told I shouldn’t call it that.”

“Can’t argue with the accuracy I suppose,” Molly admitted with a shrug.

A moment of silence settled in and Sherlock glanced at his dwindling basket of chips. His heart started to pound at the possibility of opening his mouth and filling the silence with something rather weighty.

“I have been thinking about that topic lately though- loneliness, that is,” he hurried to clarify, though admittedly, the other topic may have crossed his mind a time or two. “I find that I can be lonely at times.”

She set her own almost empty basket down then and focused on him fully. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Not that loneliness in itself is something terribly new. I suppose what’s new is the fact that I...I’ve decided to stop ignoring it now.”

“Well that- that’s good,” Molly replied, happy but appearing a tiny bit unsure now of the topic. “It’s important to know what we need and not be afraid to ask for it.”

“I think I do know,” Sherlock confirmed with a soft smile. “And asking isn’t quite as frightening as it used to seem.”

A shiver ran through him as he thought he caught a glimpse of her eyes darting to his lips in the dim street lighting. This might be it, the moment to open his mouth and-

Something hit his nose and he blinked. Molly got the words out before he could.

“Oh goodness, it’s raining!”

They both got up, dumping their trash in the nearby bin, and hurried back down the street to the salon. Sherlock supposed this wasn’t the worst turn of events. He had, after all, planned to try this conditioner on her tonight. Seemed right to actually do what he’d originally said he would before completely pouring his heart out.  

Once inside, Sherlock retrieved a jar of the pricey new conditioner and some other supplies to set by the sink. Molly came over and sat at the chair, leaning her head back into the bowl after he’d put a cape on her.

“I think I’ll really enjoy some nice warm water now after that chilly bit of rain,” she said while giving her hair a little help into the sink.

Sherlock took the hint and did use a very warm spray to soak and wash her hair, smiling to himself as she shut her eyes and sighed softly in relaxation. Once she was thoroughly washed, he towel dried her hair till it was damp before working some of the thick conditioning treatment through from root to ends. He then pinned the hair up and out of the way, lifting the shampoo chair upright so she could sit for a while.

“We’ll let it sit, just for a few minutes before rinsing,” he explained.

“Y’know maybe you should go on holiday some time,” Molly said, seemingly out of the blue. “I mean, I was just thinking about the Watsons being away and it made me realize I can’t ever recall you going away just to take some time off for yourself.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Always seemed a bit boring. I prefer to stay busy.”

“Well you could stay busy on holiday! Go somewhere interesting with lots to do and see. Maybe even…” She hesitated. “You could take a friend.”

His gaze snapped to hers instantly. “Not a bad idea,” he replied as evenly as possible.

Their eyes clung together for a silent moment, but finally Molly stood from the chair.

“I’ll just um, maybe I’ll pop into the loo for a moment and then it’ll be time to rinse?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, perfect.”

_ Perfect,  _ he echoed in his head. Hopefully it was about to be perfect, though he still feared the possibility that Molly Hooper had finally resolved to emotionally move on with her life and leave any interest in him behind. He knew very well that there was no other way to know for sure besides actually confessing his feelings.

Why couldn’t all of this come as naturally as color correction? That was a science, a formula, and the results could be very accurately anticipated.

Long before he’d finished a mental script, she came back out and sat at the sink again.

“Wow, I can already tell it’s really nice and silky,” Molly said with a smile while feeling his fingers slip effortlessly through her hair as he rinsed.

“Perhaps it’s worth the 45£ after all.”

“My God, 45£ for one little jar?!” Molly exclaimed with a laugh. “Glad I got a free trial.”

“You can keep the rest of the open jar if you’d like,” Sherlock offered while shutting the water off and wrapping her hair in a towel.

“You sure? That’s awfully generous,” she asked while standing and following him back to the chair at his station.

“Least I can do. I appreciate you coming after work to help,” he stated casually while towel drying her hair in preparation for the blow dryer.

_ Idiot!  _ he screamed at himself.  _ You haven’t even told her why she’s really here! _

As if she’d become a mind reader, Molly reached out and stopped his hand before he could reach for the dryer. She looked directly at him through the mirror and spoke.

“Sherlock, what was all this about?”

He jaw hung slack for a moment as he processed the fact that this new conditioning treatment did not supply an adequate explanation for her. He supposed that wasn’t surprising. If anyone would be able to tell that he had created a ruse, it would be her.

“Right,” Sherlock murmured softly, partly to himself. “Can’t do this in the mirror.”

He gently spun her around so she was facing him while drawing a breath of courage.

“This was about…me actually,” he confessed.

“You?” Molly questioned, quirking a brow.

“You see, I’ve been a bit of a idiot. For a very long time, actually. “

“I don’t think you’re an-“

“With you, yes I have been,” Sherlock insisted firmly. “But you can consider this evening to be my first attempt at a different approach. One which I very much hope does not come too late.”

He reached down and cautiously slipped her fingers around her hand.

“You have been unique and beautiful, inside and out, since the moment I met you. Certainly made my job an easy one,” he said with a short laugh. “But that much beauty and goodness...I found it difficult to know what to do with it. I spend literally years listening to people sit right where you are now and tell me how horribly their marriage or relationship had crashed and burned. I knew myself and since emotional connections hardly came naturally to me, the last thing I wanted to do was make a mess of anything with you. Because  _ you... _ you deserve better than that.”

“But...” Molly prompted in a whisper, her eyes riveted to him.

“But,” he confirmed. “I also realized that what may just be worse than making a mess of things with you would be to miss the chance to  _ try _ and actually get it right. I realize there was a time you cared, but I wonder if you still- what are you doing?”

Sherlock paused at the sound of Molly’s foot pumping the chair’s hydraulics.

“Oh nothing,” she answered with a soft smile as she lifted the seat as high as it could go, making them almost eye-to-eye. “You can keep talking.”

“I um, well I- I just wanted to know if you still had any interest- romantically, that is- in me. And whether you’d perhaps be willing to try and…”

His words trailed off as her other hand slid into his, both their hands linked now. She tugged a little, inching him forward and bringing his face intoxicatingly close to hers.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do this while I was sitting here?” Molly murmured, licking her lips as she conspicuously eyed his.

Sherlock swallowed hard, as she braced their hands on the back of the seat behind her.

“Well, let’s see, you’ve had your hair done here...thirty six times over the years? Thirty seven if you count tonight. So…”

“That’s right,” Molly whispered, nodding slowly as she inched closer. “Thirty…seven...times.”

Her lips finally reached and gently touched his, just a taste, pausing enough for him to look into her eyes. And that was definitely all it took.

Sherlock dove forward again, pressing his mouth to hers hungrily. His hands came up, fingers burying into her damp hair as her arms locked around his neck with an accompanying sigh of what very much sounded like relief. And it might have come out of both their mouths. Any hesitance quickly melted away, replaced by the elation of their mutual passion which had been held back for far too long.

Molly finally pulled away, puffing out an exhale before grinning at him.

“By the way, yeah...yeah I’d be willing to try,” she said breathlessly. “Dating you, I mean.”

Sherlock nodded, perching his hands on his hips and making a mock contemplative expression. “Good of you to tell me, though you know, I’d somehow already deduced just that.”

Molly pursed her lips. “Impressive, as always.”

She stood from the seat and removed the cape from her neck before wrapping her arms around his middle.

“We’re not going to make a mess of this, I hope you know,” she stated confidently.

“I’m beginning to think the very same thing,” Sherlock agreed and then gave her a playful smile. “I mean, if nothing else, we’ve both got such interesting jobs that we’ll never run out of things to talk about.”

Molly laughed and gave him an extra squeeze. “We do make quite a pair, don’t we?”

“Mm, and come to think of it, now that we’re going to be a couple…” he said thoughtfully with a little gleam in his eyes as he absentmindedly wrapped some of her still damp hair around his fingers.

“Any chance I could start visiting you at work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sherlolly writing to-do list is now totally naked lol! Which is probably good, seeing as I'm not on fire at the moment. Not sure when anything more will be coming, but who knows? Maybe I'll get more inspiration again one of these days. ;)) Thanks again Lexie, for the editing help!   
> PS- just a reminder that the final round of voting for the SAMFA '17 (Sherlock And Molly Fanfic Awards) is going on right now and will be open till Nov 6th. There's a post with links to the voting site on sherlolly.tumblr.com if anyone is looking to participate. And some of my fics made the list of nominees! Woohoo! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to artbylexie who not only helped me finalize this first chapter, but also came up with the brilliant salon name. Love it! :D


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